


You Feel Like Heaven With My Eyes Closed

by one_more_offbeat_anthem



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Declarations Of Love, Depression, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Season 13 Castiel and Dean Winchester Reunion, Season/Series 13, Trenchcoats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25891762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_more_offbeat_anthem/pseuds/one_more_offbeat_anthem
Summary: After Cas dies, Dean mourns him and what could have been, causing him to have hyper-realistic dreams. When Cas returns, Dean finally decides to make a move. (This fic is set at the start of s13. Title based on the Andy Black song “Heaven.”)
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 81





	You Feel Like Heaven With My Eyes Closed

**Author's Note:**

> this song is on my destiel playlist (it's called heaven and hell are keeping them apart on Spotify if you're interested but there's big angst)

_Thought I was chasing my dreams in this heartbreak town_

_Passing through the streets til the sun went down_

_I was lost and found_

_When you kissed me_

“Dean, you have to eat something.”

Dean stared up at his younger brother. There was concern in Sam’s eyes as he placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, saying, “Seriously, man, when’s the last time you ate?”

“Not hungry,” Dean replied, shrugging Sam’s hand away.

“Who are you and what have you done with Dean Winchester?” Sam sat down next to Dean at the kitchen table.

Dean looked up at him. He knew that he looked terrible—he had observed that in the mirror only an hour prior. His hair was askance, his skin pale, his eyes sunken with deep sockets. He should eat, sleep, go outside. But he couldn’t.

What was the point of going on?

Cas had died before, of course, but this time it seemed like it was going to stick. Around them, things kept getting worse and worse, and Dean had never felt more alone. It was nice to have Sam and Jack around, but Jack was a bitter reminder of the angel’s absence, and Dean knew he didn’t have the wisdom to take care of the Nephilim properly. Cas was better with him, calmer, more discerning.

_We would stare at the lights on Canyon Street_

_Without friends, without hope, just our luck and our dreams_

_I was lost and found_

_When you kissed me_

“Are you not gonna answer me?” Sam asked.

“I’m fine, Sam. Just tired.”

“Then sleep.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

Dean didn’t answer. He didn’t wanted to admit what was going on—he had been having dreams, vivid dreams.

Thoughts of Cas that had lingered just below the surface for years had finally emerged. Now that Cas was gone, he had to admit it: he loved the angel, really and truly. He knew that it had started the day Cas had raised him, and it had kept on, growing and changing as they knew each other better. He loved him first as a savior, then as a friend, then as family, and now—

He couldn’t admit it. It wouldn’t change a thing. Cas would still be gone.

But the knowledge was causing him to have dreams, vivid dreams. They were all about Cas. In some of them, Dean was in purgatory, looking for Cas, and as soon as he saw him, he woke up. In others, he was reliving memories of his time with Cas. There were good memories and bad memories, wrapped up together, but all of the dream-reminiscing led to Cas’s death every time.

The worst ones, though, were the happy ones. The ones where Dean got his secret hopes and dreams fulfilled. Cas came back, and he knew what Dean meant without asking, without him having to say it, and he reached for his hands, and it was dark…

Dean involuntarily shook his head. Those dreams were hell. When he was asleep, they filled him up, but when he awoke again, he was empty.

Just like the place Cas was.

_Slow down (slow down), I'm going too fast now (too fast now)_

_And I can't keep up with time now, let it go (let it go)_

_Slow down (slow down), so I can touch you (so I can touch you)_

_Cause I can't keep up with us, now let it go (let it go)_

His life went on like this for weeks.

Sam tried everything—beer, hamburgers, pizza, even pie. He wasn’t interested. They researched cases, fought new things, thought of ways to deal with the whole…Jack problem.

But at the end of the day, when Dean wasn’t occupied with something, his mind would drift away, and he would find himself reminiscing on things that had never happened. In a way, he felt like a chunk of his life was missing—if he had only reached out to grab it, these things would be different.

Would it make this hurt more, though, to have had it and lost it than to have never had it at all?

It was all a grey blur. He went to bed, praying, falling on his knees, again and again, that Cas would come back, or, if he couldn’t come back, that the dreams would go away. He wanted to forget his best friend, the closest person to him besides Sam. He wanted all of it to go away.

But he also desired every second of it. He struggled against himself—asleep, he could live in a world where Cas was still alive, where he got a larger piece of the angel to have and to hold. But awake, he had to confront reality.

_You feel like heaven with my eyes closed_

_You feel like heaven with my eyes closed_

_You feel like heaven with my eyes closed_

In his dreams, Cas’s smiles were always real, his eyes crinkling in the corners. His eyes were a vibrant blue that locked in on his own. In his dreams, Dean was a better person—he didn’t push Cas away when he needed him most, he didn’t lose his temper. He said what he had always meant to say. He knew a thousand ways to say _I love you_ and the angel knew a thousand ways to say it back.

Those were words that Dean longed to hear, longed to be a part of, and the longing consumed him, reducing him to a mere shell of himself. He was never fully awake, always partially in his dreams—they were so real. They felt so _real_. Why weren’t they real?

Sam found him that way, one night, unable to sleep, sick at the thought of more of the hyper-realistic alternate realities. They never spoke about it, but that night, his younger brother brought him more blankets, water, a lamp…and stayed by his side, sitting on the edge of his bed, gently rubbing Dean’s shoulder until he fell into an uneasy sleep.

_I was smoking and drinking and trying to forget_

_All the stress of the mess and the credit card debt_

_And I'm still surprised, you never left me_

One day, Dean’s phone rang. It was a number he didn’t recognize—but then again, he didn’t save most numbers. Dully, he answered it, “Who is it?”

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean nearly dropped his phone. He felt like he was going to be sick. He held it away from his hand, staring at it, before pulling it back to his ear, “Cas?”

“Yes.”

“W-where are you?”

“I’m—“

Dean didn’t fully hear the rest of Cas’s explanation. He left, shouting something to Sam about an emergency errand. It wasn’t until he was in the Impala and on the road that he started thinking clearly.

If this was Cas—

Did he dare to hope that it was Cas?

If it was Cas, what should he do? Should he push aside what he knew, what he had fully realized in his grief, to ensure that whatever they all had to go through next was successful? Or should he speak his mind?

He would figure it out when he got there.

Dean parked, patting the car door as he locked it and walked away into the plaza. Lights were all around him, the night darker than ever. Telephones. Where were they? There was one on the left, and in the—

Standing in a trench coat, _his_ trench coat…

Dean’s mouth was dry.

He walked—ran, maybe, he wasn’t sure—to the man, to…

“Cas?” He croaked.

“Yes.”

“How are you—?”

“I’ll tell you everything later. We should go back.”

“Yeah.”

But Dean’s mind was elsewhere, not on Sam and Jack, but on the angel right in front of him, now walking next to him. The blue eyes were just as he remembered and more, and he found himself glancing sidelong at the angel’s lips…

_We were young and in love but forgot to show up_

_I was there in my head, just a fool, half drunk_

_And I'm still surprised, you never left me_

“Dean, I was worried sick about—“ Sam stood up as they entered, nearly knocking over a chair, “No. This can’t be—Cas?”

Cas spread out his arms, “I’m here.”

Dean stood uselessly by the sink as Sam, and then Jack, plied Cas with questions about his death and how he was back, what he had done and said. He heard none of it. He was too busy watching, feeling something expand and contract inside his chest. It was confusion, desperation, the same feeling like he might be sick.

He wasn’t sure if he was living a dream or a nightmare.

Cas was back.

He was _back_.

It had been almost easier to feel the things he felt when the angel wasn’t sitting in front of him, growing more animated the longer he was back with them. Dean’s stomach rolled with guilt—now he had a chance to apologize, so if, God forbid, Cas left them, left _him,_ again….he wouldn’t have to deal with it. There would be nothing left to say.

_Slow down (down), I'm going too fast now (too fast now)_

_And I can't keep up with time now, let it go (let it go)_

_Slow down (down), so that I can touch you (so I can touch you)_

_Cause I can't keep up with us, now let it go (let it go)_

“Tomorrow,” Sam said, “We get started anew, with what we know now. This is—this is great. I mean, things aren’t great, but this is—“

“A big win,” Dean said, finally speaking, “This was the win we needed.”

Cas smiled at him, and his eyes crinkled, just as they had in all those dreams, and Dean felt like his chest might explode. It was too much to see it in real life.

“Exactly,” Sam continued, “But us humans need sleep—Dean especially.”

“Why?” Cas asked.

“Just….been having bad dreams for a while,” Dean said, “The usual.”

They had been most unusual.

But he didn’t want to ruin things, not now that Cas was back.

“Sleep well,” Jack said, “I’m going to go wreak havoc in my room.”

“Don’t wreak too much havoc,” Sam replied warningly.

“See you guys tomorrow,” Dean said. He instinctively put a hand on Cas’s shoulder and squeezed it as he walked out.

_You feel like heaven with my eyes closed_

_You feel like heaven with my eyes closed_

_You feel like heaven with my eyes closed_

“Dean?”

Cas’s voice was a whisper outside of his room. Dean was staring at the ceiling in the pitch-blackness, only a small amount of light filtering in through the crack in the curtains.

“Come in,” Dean replied.

The angel walked slowly, carefully. Dean could tell that he was wearing pajamas, pajamas Dean himself had lent him. There was another sharp pain, somewhere near his midsection. Cas sat down at the edge of his bed, “I just wanted to check on you. Sam told me you haven’t been doing so well.”

Dean swallowed past the knot in his throat, “I just….it was hard to have you gone, man.”

“It was hard not being here.” Cas scooted closer, “But I’m back now, it’ll all be alright.”

“Hm.” Dean was trying not to say anything, because he knew his voice would break if he tried to respond, that all the pushed down tears would come out.

“Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s okay to not be okay.”

Unconsciously, without his permission, almost, the tears began to come, the tears Dean had pushed down for weeks. He had cried them in his dreams, buried them in his prayers, lost them in his work—but here they were. He could never really get rid of them. He let out a chest-wracking sob.

Before he could protest, Cas had moved to be laying next to him, gently nudging him over as his tears continued to fall. The angel’s face was close to his now, “Dean….I’m sorry.”

“It’s—it’s not your fault you died, you were trying to do the right thing…”

“And I hurt you.”

“No.” Dean hiccuped, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, “I hurt me. I should have….” He swallowed, “Cas, there’s something I-I need to tell you. That I should have told you, I just didn’t know how…”

Before he could finish his sentence, Cas leaned his face forward in the darkness, his lips brushing Dean’s, his hands taking Dean’s shoulders. It was like it had been in his dreams, and better than that, much better. He felt his tears mingle with the kiss, felt his mouth open slightly to fit with Cas’s. He was close, so close.

“Cas, I…” his lips were brushing the angel’s as he spoke, “I love you.” Another sob escaped him, more vicious than the one before, but also more full.

“I know, Dean, I know.” Cas pulled Dean close to him, Dean’s head to his shoulder. As Dean cried into his shirt, the angel whispered, “I love you too.”

_Slow down (down), I'm going too fast now (I'm going too fast now)_

_And I can't keep up with time now, let it go (let it go)_

_Slow down (down), so that I can touch you (so I can touch you)_

_Cause I can't keep up with us, now let it go (let it go)_

_You feel like heaven with my eyes closed_

_You feel like heaven with my eyes closed_

_You feel like heaven with my eyes closed_


End file.
